Kiss Me, I'm Irish
by mandy9578
Summary: What do you get when you mix alcohol, karaoke and the very scrumptious Det. Donald Flack, Jr.? Just a little fic in honor of St. Patrick's Day, haha. Flack/Stella. Fiesta. CHAPTER FIVE UP! COMPLETE!
1. Kiss Me, I'm Irish

**KISS ME, I'M IRISH**

**By mandy9578**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I wish I did. I'm just borrowing them. Plus, I'm not making any money off of this. They belong to Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS. **

**Author's Note: Kudos to feathergirl926 once again. This was borne out of a discussion about mixing alcohol, karaoke and the scrumptious Det. Don Flack, Jr. The muse was such a slave master with this one. I ended up getting to work late since I was busy tweaking this that I didn't realize that time had flown by. LOL! I hope you enjoy reading this. I really had fun writing this one. Now, go read. LOL!**

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Stella Bonasera was surveying the room around her. Here she was surrounded by her friends and co-workers. Having grown up an orphan, she considers them family. They were sitting in a VIP room of a karaoke joint called **The Boombox**, eating, drinking, laughing…Basically just enjoying St. Patrick's Day. She could see that everyone was having a blast. She had invited them all more than a week ago and wouldn't take no for an answer. So here they were. She suspected that they were quite afraid of what she'd do or say if they had refused her invitation.

Currently, Adam Ross was belting out (if you could call it that, more like screeching his way through the song actually) Danny Boy, rather awkwardly, looking over at Danny Messer, who was laughing so hard at Adam's efforts. But clearly Adam was enjoying his time at the mic. Flack, Hawkes, Angell, Kendall, Lindsay, Sid and even Mac were cheering him on, laughing along with Danny as well.

"Hey Stel," Mac Taylor turned to Stella, who was sitting beside him. "I'm glad you planned this whole 'little outing'," he continued.

"Well, I'm glad too. This sure _is_ fun," she replied.

"So _karaoke_, huh," Mac asked since he hadn't had the chance to _really_ talk to her the whole day.

"Yeah…Ben, the manager here, is a friend of mine. We grew up together at the orphanage. He'd been inviting me since last year to check this place out. I kept telling him that I just don't have the time. You know, with work and all," she paused, taking a quick bite out of a Buffalo wing.

"So…he called about two weeks ago to say 'hello' and told me that I just had to come on over and finally see this place for myself," she said, wiping her hand with a table napkin. "…To get him off my back, I finally caved in, telling him to reserve this room for us for tonight. So…_tada!_ Here we are," she said gaily, finally ending her little monologue.

Both Mac and Stella turned their attention to Adam, who had finally finished singing the last notes of Danny Boy, bowing theatrically to much laughter and applause.

Danny hollered from across the table, "Mac, it's your turn."

"No backing out now Mac," Flack piped in, making everyone around the table laugh.

The former Marine stood up, smiled and laughed along as the first strains of Robert Palmer's _Simply Irresistible_ started playing on the speaker system. He grabbed the mic that Angell handed to him. He was giving them quite the show. Who knew Mac Taylor knows how to wind down and have a good time?

Looking across the table, Stella's eyes met Flack's and both had a moment. She was the first to look away, averting her eyes to the huge video screen where the lyrics to the song Mac was singing were on display. _'Damn, Flack really looks gorgeous. He's just too cute. Even that tie he's wearing is adorable,'_ Stella thought to herself.

Flack's funky taste in ties was on full display today. He was wearing a Kelly green tie with shamrocks all over it, in honor of the occasion, to go with the black pinstripe suit he had on. Funny, how through the years of knowing Don, she always looked forward to seeing what tie he was wearing. It was kinda like a sport really, watching out for those fugly ties he so loves. She actually _loves watching Flack_. _Period_. It was so hard, keeping herself from ogling him. _'He's such a fine specimen of manhood really. Wait…Where did that come from,' _she wondered. Lately, she had been thinking more and more about Flack. She had all these emotions and feelings running riot within her regarding said blue-eyed Detective. They were actually quite confusing, to be honest.

"Hey Stel," Flack said to her, startling her out of her reverie. She could feel a blush creeping up from her neck to her face, like she had just been caught doing something particularly naughty. "How come you're not drinking? Don't you realize what the occasion is," he asked, a grin on his face. "Besides, you know how karaoke is _sooo_ much more fun when alcohol is involved," Flack continued, rather cheekily.

"Ah, Flack, the night is still young," she answered, rather evasively, hoping that she wasn't blushing.

"So…what's your poison of choice, Ms. Bonasera," he inquired, leaning forward to get a little closer to her, as close as the table keeping them apart would permit. "Since it's St. Paddy's Day and all, may I recommend the Guinness," he said, making a show of lifting his glass in salute and taking a large gulp of the dark beverage. "…Or if you don't want what I'm drinking, how about some Irish Car Bombs? I see it's also on special tonight," Flack said with a smile.

"What the heck," Stella said. "I think I'll try that Irish Car Bomb. Sounds interesting," she continued.

Flack called out to the waiter on standby and ordered a round for everybody. Returning his attention to Stella, she quickly asked him, "So what exactly is an Irish Car Bomb?"

"Well, it's got stout, preferably Guinness, Irish whiskey and some Irish cream. Most bars use Baileys for the Irish cream," Flack rattled off.

"Why call it an Irish Car Bomb," Stella asked, trying to keep Flack talking to her.

"The components of the drink are Irish. That's a _dead_ giveaway," he said with a smile. "The car bomb part of the name refers to the car bombings the Provisional Irish Republican Army used notoriously during _The Troubles_. The thing about this drink is that you've got to drink it immediately. Otherwise it'll curdle," he went on.

"Wow, Flack. I'm impressed. You really know your Irish history. Don'tcha," Stella said lightheartedly making Flack blush a bit in the process.

Flack was grinning like an idiot at Stella, looking now at the quite revealing green top she was wearing. _'Damn…Stella really looks lovely in green. Really brings out her eyes. Oh Stella, aren't you just the most amazing creature I've laid my eyes on,' _he thought to himself. He's just been in love with her for the longest time. She just doesn't have a clue about his feelings. He has yet to find the courage to even ask her out.

"Hey Flack," Danny nudged him with an elbow to the rib, bringing him out of his trance-like state.

"Hey! Oww! That hurts, _Danno_," Flack cried out.

"Oh don't be such a baby, Flack! Your turn to sing," Danny said teasingly, handing Flack the microphone.

"Who are you calling a baby, Messer," he told Danny as he stood up, trying to sound menacing. "What am I singing," he asked in an even tone, rubbing his hand over his rib, where Danny's elbow had connected just moments before.

"Stel, what have you picked for our pretty boy here," Danny said, addressing the curly-haired CSI.

"Ummm…_The Scientist_ by _Coldplay_," Stella replied with a smile.

"_The Scientist_? I love that song," Angell, Kendall and Lindsay all chorused.

"Hear that, man," Danny said to Flack. "The ladies love the song. So do us a favor and don't butcher it, please," Danny continued in a mocking tone.

"_Haha_, Messer. Very funny! Aren't you such the comedian? But since you said the magic word," Flack retorted sarcastically. "And _don't_ call me a _pretty boy_," he said rather indignantly. The snarky comeback, so typical of Flack, elicited much laughter from everyone.

Surprisingly, everyone in the room was blown away by Flack's rendition of the song. The women were particularly impressed, saying he really had a good singing voice…That he could give Chris Martin a run for his money…Angell even went on to say that he could probably quit his day job and be a rock star. _'Who knew that Donald Flack, Jr. had such hidden talent,'_ Stella thought to herself.

"_Hear that Messer?_ They love my singing voice! I could be a rock star," Flack said rather smugly. "I'd like to see ya top that," throwing the gauntlet at his best friend with a smile to his face.

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**Three Hours and Countless of Drinks Later…**

It was closing in on midnight. The only ones remaining in the room were Flack, Danny and Stella. The others had left about thirty minutes earlier saying that they all had early shifts the next day. Stella remained since she was their hostess, so to speak, having invited everyone out here. On the other hand, Flack was just having too much fun. Plus, he didn't want to leave without Stella. Danny, being the good friend that he was, remained for the sake of Flack. He could see that Flack was getting wasted and fast. Things could get really ugly.

Flack was hogging the microphone. The first strains of the song Danny had chosen for him starting to pick up.

♫ "_Why is that sad look in your eyes? Why are you crying? Tell me now, tell me now. Tell me, why you're feelin' this way. I hate to see you so down, oh baby! Is it your heart? Oh, breakin' all in pieces. Makin' you cry. Makin' you feel blue. Is there anything that I can do?" _♫

Flack was looking intently over at Stella as he was singing the cheesy Kathy Troccoli song Messer had picked out for him. The lyrics to the song reminded him of the beautiful Detective. The song picked up again and Flack sang his heart out…

♫ "_Why don't you tell me where it hurts now, baby?__And I'll do my best to make it better. __Yes, I'll do my best to make the tears all go away. Just tell me where it hurts...__Now, tell me.__ And I'll love you with a love so tender...__And if you let me stay__…__I'll take all of the hurt away… Where are all those tears coming from? Why are they falling? Did somebody, somebody, somebody leave your heart in the cold? You just need somebody to hold so, baby. (Give me a chance)…To put back all the pieces…Take hold of your heart…Make it just like new…There's so many things that I can do."_ ♫

Flack, never felt as vulnerable as he was feeling right now. He was still staring at Stella, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He was wondering what she was thinking, hoping he was somehow getting through to her. Danny really picked the perfect song, even if it was a tad bit cheesy.

'_Why is Flack looking at me like that? Do I have lipstick on my teeth? Nah, lipstick had been wiped off clean hours ago. Do I have Buffalo wings sauce on my face,' _she wondered. She was actually quite dense, chalking it up to Flack being really drunk and wasted. Then it suddenly hit her like a brick wall. _'Oh shit! Shit! Shit! He's singing about me,' _her inner voice was screaming at her.

Danny, on the other hand, was watching the scene unfold before him. His two friends were quite oblivious to his presence. He might as well be on the moon for crying out loud. Stella and Flack were now looking at each other intently. Danny felt like a voyeur, spying on an intimate moment between his two good friends.

Finally, the song had ended. Flack bolstered by Dutch courage blurted out at the top of his lungs, slurring his words, "I love you, Stella Bonasera! Kiss me, I'm Irish!" And then he promptly fainted, falling to the floor in a heap.

**To Be Continued…**

**A/N 2: Yes, you may think I am cruel for leaving you hanging. LOL! Don't worry, I've got the second chapter in the works, ready to be posted within a day or two. The title of the last song is **_**Tell Me Where It Hurts**_** which was composed by the very prolific songwriter Diane Warren. I don't own the song either. Haha, Heather, for the life of me, I couldn't think of another cheesy love song. So I had to go with this Kathy Troccoli song. Some of the events here were inspired by real life! LOL! Oh and please don't forget to leave me a review. Go push that review button. LOL! No really, I would love to read what you think of this fic so far.**


	2. What The Hell Just Happened?

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own the characters. Well, Ben is mine. That's it really.**

**Author's Note: As promised, here is the second chapter. I know many of you were left hanging at the end of the last chapter but it would have been less exciting if I didn't end it there. LOL! Anyway, thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I'm glad you guys got a kick out of the first chapter. LOL! So, here's the second. Read on…**

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**Chapter Two**

Flack was now lying on the floor, unconscious. Stella and Danny were momentarily dumbfounded by what had just happened. It was so surreal. One moment Flack was singing his heart out, declaring his love for Stella and then the next he was out cold.

"Stella," Danny called out to her, snapping her out of the shock of what had just transpired, killing the buzz she had from the alcohol.

"_What the hell just happened_, Danny," Stella asked.

"Shit, Stel! I had a feeling something ugly was coming down and I don't mean literally," pointing to Flack on the floor. "Nice way to yank me from the buzz I was enjoying, by the way," Danny said.

"_What?_ You knew something like this was gonna happen," she looked at him and then made her way to their side of the room.

"Well, Flack here had the most to drink," he said, crouching over his friend, checking for a pulse. "I think he's had about seven or eight pints of Guinness. As for those Irish Car Bombs, I don't know how many he's had. That's why I decided to stay around. _I__ just had a bad feeling, is all!_ Ah stupid man! Went overboard again," Danny said, reassured that Flack was still breathing. "Help me get him seated, Stel. I'll go call for help," he continued as Stella helped him seat Flack on a chair. She put her hands on his head, checking it out for bumps.

"Go look for Ben, the manager. Tell him you're a friend of mine…And tell him to bring in an ice pack. Flack here is gonna need it," she replied. "He's got a nasty bump on the back of his head…And go call a cab! Oh and please tell Ben to give me a couple of plastic bags or if he's got none, a pail he could spare," she said to Danny in an authoritative voice.

"Okay," Danny hollered on his way out of the room to fetch Ben and do as she asked.

'_Oh poor baby,'_ Stella thought. _'He finally has the courage to tell me he loves me and he promptly passes out. Just my luck! Shit! Was he even serious,'_ doubts nagging at her.

"Hey Stella," Ben said, entering the room. "Here," he continued, handing her something cold.

"_What__ the hell is this,_ Benny? A pack of frozen wieners," she asked, looking at him incredulously, trying so hard not to laugh.

"Well…As you know we close at midnight. Last orders were 15 minutes ago. We've run out of ice, it being St. Paddy's Day, ya know. I thought we had stocked more than enough. Guess I was wrong. It's the best I could come up with," he said sheepishly. "Here," he said, handing her a dish towel. "wrap those dogs with that," he continued.

"This is _so_oo surreal," Stella chuckled, putting the pack of frozen wieners on the bump on Flack's head. "This is…just…_laughable_," she continued.

"What happened," Ben asked her, as he handed her the plastic bags. Stella knew the bags would come in handy.

"Well, I think Flack here just had _too_ much to drink," she told him, deliberately leaving out the love declaration part. Flack was now moaning and mumbling incoherently about his mother. "Hey Ben, about the bill," she went on.

"Nah, don't worry about it, gorgeous," he said kindly. "Consider it my treat. After all, I'm the one who's been insisting that you come here and look what happened," he said, gesturing towards Flack.

"Thanks Ben. _Really._ I appreciate it. Tonight was really fun. Well…except for this part," she said, looking intently at Flack as she hovered over his slumped form.

"Hey Stel," Danny said, returning to the room. "The cab's here. How is he," he asked, while he and Ben helped Flack up.

"I think he was asking for his_ Mama," _she said, holding on to the makeshift 'ice pack'.

"_What?_ Flack here was asking for his mother," Danny questioned with a grunt. Flack was really heavy, having such a tall frame.

"That's what it sounded to me," Stella replied humorously, following them out of the room.

"Such a Mama's boy," Danny snorted while Ben merely chuckled.

They had finally helped Flack into the cab, placing him in the middle, in between Stella and Danny. After saying their thanks to Ben, the cab finally drove off.

"Where to, lady," the cabbie asked.

"New York-Presbyterian, please," she said. "We have to have him checked out," she looked over at Danny. "That bump looks nasty," Stella continued.

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Stella was right. A plastic bag _did_ come in handy. Flack vomited several times during the cab ride to the hospital, soiling his suit when he missed the plastic bag once. Stella's nurturing instinct kicked in and she wiped his face and suit with some Kleenex she kept in her purse. In between sessions of vomiting, Flack kept on harking about how he loved Stella. Danny quite amused with his best friend's antics, responded by saying, "Yeah Flack. We heard ya l_oud and clear_!"

At the ER, the attending physician examined Flack. He was so amused with the whole 'wiener ice pack.' He told them something about how St. Patrick's Day brings a lot of revelers into his ER. Taking pity on Flack, the doctor asked a nurse to provide him with a real,_ genuine_ ice pack. Flack, by this time, was more or less alert, and answered the doctor's questions quite coherently, if rather groggily.

Stella talked with the doctor while Danny, helped Don sit in the waiting room. "He's fine. He just had too much to drink. Don't forget to give him lots of fluids. If you've got Gatorade, that would be extremely helpful in combating the dehydration. For the pain, just give him some extra-strength Tylenol when needed," the doctor advised. "As for that bruise, continue to put an ice pack on it," he said with a smile on his face, the wiener pack still fresh in his memory. "As a precaution, make sure he sleeps on his side to prevent choking if ever he vomits again," the physician droned on.

"Thanks Doctor, I really appreciate it," Stella said graciously.

"No problem, Detective," he replied. "…Oh and don't forget the wieners," he said in an amused tone, handing Stella the now-melting wieners.

Stella grinned, "Uuhhh, thanks again, Doc."

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Before heading to Don's apartment, they had passed by a convenience store where Danny bought what the doctor recommended while Stella waited in the cab with the now sleeping Flack. After what seemed like forever they soon arrived at Flack's apartment complex. Stella woke Flack up reluctantly, saying that they had arrived at his place.

Finally inside the apartment after what seemed like ages, Stella and Danny helped Flack into his bedroom. Danny held onto the sleepy Flack while Stella turned down the covers. Danny brought Flack down onto the bed.

"Danny, help me remove his tie and suit. It stinks and I'm sure Flack wouldn't appreciate waking up to that smell," Stella said, wrinkling her nose. So they stripped Flack down to his boxers and wifebeater. _'Shit. Many times have I fantasized seeing Flack in his boxers but never like this. Not under this kind of circumstance. Gee, he's passed out and oblivious to my presence,' _she thought wryly.

They had positioned Flack on the bed just like what the doctor told her. "Hey Danny," she piped up. "I think I'll stay the night here, on the couch," she continued.

"Stel, are you sure? This is the first time I've seen Flack _this drunk. _I mean I could stay here with the _knucklehead_ if you like," Danny volunteered.

"Nah, it's okay Danny. It was my idea to invite you guys out for St. Patrick's Day, so it's just fitting that I remain here to nurse Flack through this," Stella answered. "Anyway, don't you have an early shift tomorrow," she asked him.

"Yeah, I do," Danny said.

"Besides, I think Flack and I need to talk about what happened," Stella told him.

"Okay Stel. Just call me if you need anything," he said, making his way to the front door. "Oh and don't forget to tell me what happens when he wakes up. I want all the juicy details," Danny said cheekily.

"I'm sure whatever happens here you'll find out one way or another. Oh and Danny…just keep everything on the down low for now. I don't think Flack would like it if everyone found out what happened over at** The Boombox **before we've even had the chance to talk properly," Stella told him. "Okay? If I hear rumors swirling about this," she paused dramatically. "Just so you know, I'll know it was you who started it and I'll hunt you down, Messer. That's a promise," she said humorously.

"Don't worry about it Stel, I won't tell a soul. _Scout's honor_," he replied, finally closing the door behind him. "Oh Stel, don't forget to lock up," he yelled from outside, finally leaving Stella alone.

Stella marched into Flack's bedroom. Don was now snoring loudly. She picked up the suit and tie Flack was just wearing moments ago. She made her way to the other side of the room and entered the bathroom, placing the clothes into the hamper. Then, she got a washcloth from the shelves that stocked bathroom linen. Looking for a basin, she checked in the cabinet under the sink, finding it there, she took it out. She filled the basin with water and alcohol she got from the medicine cabinet in front of her. She placed the washcloth in the basin.

Carrying the basin into the bedroom, she made her way to Don's side, sitting on the bed, beside him. She placed the basin on the night table, took out the washcloth and squeezed out the water. She wiped his face first and proceeded with his arms and legs. While she was doing this, Flack kept mumbling, "I love you, Stel!" But clearly he was asleep and unconscious. _'Ah, Flack…I love you too,' _Stella thought to herself.

Finished with her task, she cleaned up the bathroom. Once inside the bedroom again, she rolled down the blinds. She knew that sunlight would be a bitch for someone with a nasty hangover. Finally making her way out of the bedroom, she shut off the lights in Flack's room. Murmuring, "Sweet dreams, Donnie," Stella closed the bedroom door gently.

**To Be Continued…**

**A/N 2: You've finally reached the end of this chapter. So how was it? I really would love to know what you think of this one. Again, some events were based on real life. Please push that review button! Go! Push it! LOL!**


	3. The Nastiest Hangover Ever

**Disclaimer: Again, I don't own the characters. They belong to those people I mentioned in Chapter One. So there.**

**Author's Note: Hello my readers, here is the third installment. To those who were kind enough to leave me wonderful reviews, thank you so much! Mwah! It really makes me giddy that y'all are getting a kick out of Flack's misadventures. I hope you enjoy reading this, my labor of love. I even skipped my **_**siesta**_** just to finish this chapter. LOL! I really had fun writing this one and crazy ol' me was laughing like a hyena at what I have Flack doing and thinking here. So, without further ado, here's the third chapter.**

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**Chapter Three**

"Uuugghhh," Don Flack groaned, waking up to the worst hangover of his life. This had never happened to him before. Well, not like this and not this nasty. _'Well, there's a first time for everything,' _he realized. He tried opening his eyes but found it quite difficult.

He felt as if a construction worker had taken a jackhammer to his head and was now currently drilling it into his skull. "Ooowww," he said, rubbing his head, taking off the ice pack. He felt a rather large bump on the back. _'Crap! Where the hell am I,'_ he thought. Finally, his eyelids fluttered open, rather reluctantly, slightly blinded by the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the blinds. He saw that he was in his darkened bedroom. He looked at the clock radio on his night table. Blinking, his vision still blurry, he could hardly see the time. It looked like it read 9:20 am on the digital display.

He removed the comforter covering him and saw that he was only in his boxers and wifebeater. _'How the hell did I get this way? I don't remember getting undressed. Fuck, I don't even remember getting home last night,_' he wondered. The urge to pee suddenly overwhelmed him so he slowly stood up. However, he got so woozy that he had to sit down on the edge of the bed. _'Ahhh, stupid hangover,'_ his brain was pounding and screaming. He tried standing again and was finally successful. He felt like a zombie. Heck, he was even walking like a zombie on his way to the bathroom.

Blinking rapidly, he turned on the lights and went inside. _'Ahhh! Too fucking bright!' _ He went over to the toilet to relieve himself. He smelled and sniffed himself. "Uuugghhh, nasty," he said aloud, scrunching his face. He was reeking of alcohol. '_This just wouldn't do_,' his neat freak self was bellowing at him. After he had finished his business, he stripped and went to take a shower.

While shampooing his dark locks, some memories of last night came flooding back into his brain. All he could remember was having a good time at the karaoke joint, singing his lungs out. He remembered drinking a lot. He hadn't drunk alcohol since way before the start of Lent. He usually made it a point not to drink liquor during the said liturgical season as a sacrifice. But he couldn't refuse Stella's invitation. He'd do anything for Stella Bonasera.

'_Fuck! Stella! Oh my God,' _his inner self was roaring at him, conjuring up the image of him singing that cheesy love ballad to her. _'Sssshhhhiiittt! What did I do? __**Oh my God!**__ I told her I love her,'_ the sudden realization crashing into him like a speeding freight train.

He couldn't quite remember what happened after that as everything around him at that moment went black. '_Did I tell her 'kiss me, I'm Irish?' Shit! She must think I'm sooo lame,''_ he thought. "Oh how am I gonna face her? I must have looked like an _idiot_," he was talking to himself rather loudly now, in a tone of desperation. "I am such a fool," he cried out. Usually he could hold his liquor but something about alcohol missing from his system for more than a month now _and unrequited love_ doing him in!

Finally finished, he wiped himself dry with a towel and then wrapped it around his waist securely. He stood in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit, like something the cat had dragged in. He could see his eyes were bloodshot. He put his hand over his mouth and smelled his breath, "Eeeewww!"

So he brushed his teeth vigorously but found that the vibrating motion was making his head pound even more. Finally done rinsing his mouth with a minty fresh mouthwash, he opened the medicine cabinet in search of some Tylenol. "Shit," he muttered to himself when he saw that he didn't have any. He took out the bottle of Excedrin, opened it, only to find that it was empty. _'Just my luck! I hope I have some in the kitchen,_' he thought to himself.

He went out of the bathroom, making his way to his closet. He got out a pair of boxers and a white tee. Removing the towel from around his waist, throwing it on a chair, he put his clothes on. He so badly wanted to crawl back under the covers but it was time to hunt for some pain reliever in the kitchen. His monstrous headache was killing him.

Before he could make his way to the bedroom door, he heard the unmistakable sound of something frying in the kitchen. Someone was in his apartment. _'Fuck! Where the hell's my Glock,_' he thought. He found it over at the top of the bureau. He was hoping to God it was Messer. He wasn't fit to deal with an intruder right now considering the state he's in.

He opened the door and quietly made his way to the living room. He saw Stella over by the stove. _'Shit,'_he thought, turning around to sneak his way back into the bedroom, hoping against hope she didn't see or hear him. _'Now I know how I got here,'_ he thought. He didn't see the standing lamp in his haste to avoid Stella, hitting it in the process, making a rather loud sound. _'Fuck! Where the heck did that come from? I swear that lamp moved. Shit! There goes me being stealthy,' _the inner turmoil swirling within him.

"_There you are_," Stella told him, a smile on her face. By the looks of it, she had spent the night here since he could see she was wearing one of his old t-shirts from high school that he still hadn't thrown out, her hair up in a ponytail. _'She really looks sexy in my shirt,' _his thoughts straying for a moment. _'Snap out of it,'_ his cynical self taunted.

At this very moment, Flack so badly wanted to crawl under a rock or better yet, his inner voice was screaming at him, _'Oh God! Let the floor open up and swallow me whole! What is Stella doing here…in his kitchen cooking bacon?'_

"Uh, Stel, what are you doing here," he asked trying to sound a bit casual, while he put his service pistol on one of the side tables beside the couch, making sure the safety was on.

"Top of the mornin' to ya, sleepyhead! How're ya feelin' 'tis fine mornin'," Stella said in her best exaggerated faux Irish brogue, deliberately keeping things light. She could see the unbelieving expression still lingering on Flack's face.

"Like I'm dying," he replied, hoping that she couldn't see how this was really eating him up inside. "Like someone had just dropped a ton of bricks over my head," he said, trying to smile despite the throbbing pain. "So, what are you doing here, Stel," he repeated the question.

"Slept on the couch…Just wanted to make sure you were okay after what happened last night," she said, concern lacing her speech.

"Uhh, what've you got there cooking," Flack said. He knew she had bacon frying in the skillet but he was trying to shift the flow of conversation from what happened the previous night.

"I found some bacon in your freezer, the pancake mix in the cupboard. And I've got some eggs here. Didn't know if you like yours scrambled or sunny-side up, so I made both," she told him.

"Uhhh, thanks Stel. Shouldn't you be at work," he uttered, sitting at the kitchen table.

"Nah…I've got the day off today. How 'bout you? Planning on calling in sick," she asked anxiously.

"No…Ummm, it's my day off too, actually," he replied, rubbing his temple.

"That's good. At least it gives you time to recover from that nasty hangover I can see in your eyes," she said. "Here," she continued, putting a plate stacked with pancakes, bacon and eggs in front of him.

"I don't think I can eat right now," he said sheepishly.

"Flack, you've got to! You can't take painkillers with your stomach empty," she said warningly. "Have some Gatorade with your breakfast for the dehydration," she said in a softer tone, pouring him a glass and handing him the bottle of Tylenol. "Take two after you've had at least five bites, Flack," Stella continued.

"Okay. Aren't you having some," he asked, trying to be polite.

"I've already had some bagel with cream cheese I found in the fridge," she responded. "Then, I'll make you an ice pack for that nasty bump on your head after you finish eating," she went on.

He ate silently while Stella sat across him, looking at him intently, watching him like a hawk. Flack was too preoccupied about what she was thinking, what he was going to say when they finally talk, _really_ talk. He really wanted to know what she thinks about his declaration of love after singing _that _cheesy love song Messer picked for him. _'Fuck! I'm so pathetic!'_

The silence and staring were getting to be too oppressive. Even when he was looking down at his plate, he could feel Stella's penetrating gaze on him. He couldn't stand it anymore. Flack couldn't help himself. He looked up and faced her, blurting out, "Stella, say something! Anything!"

**To Be Continued…**

**A/N 2: Yes, another cliffhanger. LOL! Don't kill me! If you do, you'll never know what Stella has to say. LOL! Ah, poor Flackie, having the worst hangover ever. Anyone who ever experienced one can relate to this. Haha, **_**I can so relate to this! **_**LOL! Thanks for reading! Don't forget to push that review button. I'm dying to know how y'all like this so far. So go, leave me a review! LOL!**


	4. Mutual Revelations

**Disclaimer: Repeat after me…I don't own the characters. I'm just playing with them. I promise to give them back after I'm done. Okay?**

**Author's Note: Just a warning…This chapter is more angsty than comedic. Well, life isn't always all comedy. LOL! So I hope you like a bit more drama. Anyway, a great big thanks for the wonderful reviews. I also appreciate the constructive criticism. They really gave me a high, making me giddy like a squealing school girl, spurring me on to update with this chapter. Anyway, on with the story…**

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**Chapter Four**

Stella was taken aback by Flack's sudden outburst, rendering her stunned for a moment.

"Look at me Stella. Know that I mean what I say," he said passionately. "I was dead serious when I told you I loved you before I passed out at that karaoke joint," he went on. "Don't attribute that to me being just too inebriated, having too much to drink," Flack continued rather heatedly.

"What was I supposed to think, Don," she replied. "I mean, _come on!_ There you were messing around with Danny, very drunk, and singing your heart out like there was no tomorrow. Then you go off telling me you _loved me_," her voice slightly rising. "In the cab, on the way to the hospital, you kept on rambling _those_..._those_ words," she said. "I just chalked it up to the alcohol doing most of the talking," she continued, quite breathlessly.

"_What?_ I did? Hospital," he asked with a bewildered look on his face.

"Yeah…Danny and I had to haul your ass into New York-Presbyterian as a precaution," Stella said. "…Since you hit your head on the floor when you passed out," she elaborated with the accompanying hand gestures.

Suddenly her revelation about last night triggered in Flack's mind images of the cab ride, puking his guts out, mumbling his love for her, Danny razzing him and finally, being examined in the ER of the hospital. Stella saw a horrified expression plastered on Flack's face, like he was being regaled with some out of this world fantasy story.

"So now…do you remember," she asked rather calmly.

"Ummm…Yes I do," he replied, quite reluctantly. "Well, yeah…Sure it was the booze talking. It gave me the Dutch courage I needed. Sure, I didn't have the best timing if you must know…However, it helped in loosening my tongue so to speak," he continued. "But you know the saying, _'In vino veritas.'_ In this case, that holds true," Flack went on. "I may have been really wasted last night but every word I said was the plain, honest to goodness truth, Stel," he said, defending himself. "I love you Stella Bonasera and I would do just about anything for you," he blurted out earnestly.

The bombshell Flack had just dropped on her was making Stella very teary-eyed.

"If you don't even feel remotely the same way about me…the way I feel about you," he paused. "…Then please put me out of my misery now," he begged.

"Oh Don," was all Stella could mutter, the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, like a raging waterfall.

"Stel, I've just been in love with you for the longest time. I've been wanting to ask you out but something always seem to come up to thwart my plans. I guess my timing sucked," he revealed. "And then _that bastard_ Mala came into the picture," he said rather bitterly, choking the words out. "Deep in my gut, I could feel he was bad news. I wanted to tell you that he looked like he was up to no good but _who was I_ to do so? I didn't have the right to tell you that," he continued fervently, his speech laced with just a hint of resentment.

"Even if I couldn't have you, I wanted you to be happy. When he almost killed you, I just about died inside. I was _sooo_ furious. If I could have brought his sorry ass back from the dead, I would have….Just to kill him again for what he put you through. I couldn't believe that someone would hurt you like that," he went on forcefully. He had to stop his little speech since he could feel his head throbbing with the searing pain brought on by the nasty hangover. Opening the bottle of Tylenol, he washed a couple of them down with a glass of Gatorade.

"You were still reeling from that, so I backed off, giving you the space I knew you needed," he continued without missing a beat. "…Also, the fact that I got injured in the bomb blast didn't help. It took me quite some time to recover from that…But that really put things in perspective for me. I knew then that life was just too short. I just had to figure out how to talk to you into going out with me…but as I've said, my timing really sucked," he went on passionately.

Stella, by this time was now in tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand.

"By the time I was ready to try again, thinking you were ready to go back into the dating scene, Drew Bedford steals my thunder," Flack said, wrinkling his nose. "Trying to do the gentlemanly thing, _again_, I backed off. I got into a short-lived unsatisfying relationship with a shallow bimbo just so I could dull the pain of seeing you with someone else…Knowing that you were unreachable…unattainable," he revealed, feeling suddenly exposed and naked. "Then I find out that Bedford was just using you to get to Mac. I didn't think you were ready to date again after that. I'm sure your opinion of the male species as potential mates plummeted again. _So again_, I backed off," he continued with fervor.

Stella was too overwhelmed by the tears and the passion in his voice that she still couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"I'm not saying I don't have my faults. _ I do_. But please," he paused dramatically. "Stel, give me a chance," Flack said intensely, waiting in agony for her to finally speak her mind.

"Oh Don. Forgive me for having doubted you," Stella said, sniffling her reply, finally regaining her voice, putting on a brave effort to fight back the tears.

"Oh Stel, please don't cry," Flack implored.

"No Flack…these are good tears. These are happy tears," she insisted, trying so hard to put a smile on her face. "You know you mean the world to me. You've been such a great friend helping me through the worst times in my life," she paused when Flack interrupted her.

"But Stel…I want to be _more than_ just your friend. I've laid down all my cards on the table," he said, almost close to tears himself.

"_Stop_ interrupting me, Flack," she said, getting a bit annoyed. "I'm still internalizing everything you just said…So forgive me if I feel too overwhelmed right now. Let me get the words out before you say anything more. It's time for you to hear me out. Okay," she went on, the tears almost gone now.

"Okay. I'll shut up now," he said rather sheepishly, taking the not so subtle hint. For a brief moment his snarky self was shining through. That's one of the reasons why he loved Stella so much. She was strong-willed and independent _and_ she speaks her mind.

"Don…I've got to admit that I've been thinking of you more and more lately. I find myself always looking forward to working with you," she revealed. "…And I've even astonished myself when I feel so disappointed when Mac gives out assignments and I find out I'm working with some other detective from Homicide," she continued, a deep frown of concentration on her face.

Don continued to look at her intently, waiting to hear every word she was about to reveal to him.

"These feelings within me were starting to confuse me. When you were injured in that bomb blast, I felt so scared for you…that you wouldn't pull through but I just thought that the feeling was normal since you're one of my dearest friends," she went on to elaborate. "Heck, I couldn't understand why I was having these feelings of jealousy when I met Devon… and your flirting with her at that Ball almost drove me to insanity. I don't know how I was able to prevent myself from gouging her eyes out…I wanted to strangle her when I saw her draped all over you," she admitted candidly. "…And then last night happened, throwing me in for a loop. I didn't know if you were just yanking my chain or what. I always thought that the attraction I have for you would never be reciprocated. I guess I was wrong," she went on passionately.

"Oh Stel…The attraction _is_ mutual. Don't ever doubt that. And as for Devon, she didn't mean anything to me. She was just a distraction, a lapse in judgment" Flack replied, standing up to sit beside her, taking her hands in his.

"Now I know," she said confidently. "Don, I think I'm in love with you too…_No_…I know I _am _in love with you," she said with conviction. "I was just blinded by the feelings of confusion," she went on. "I think I have been fighting these emotions for a long time now. I had this notion that you didn't see me as someone you'd date. Plus, I'm much older than you. I thought you just saw me as an older sister," she continued.

"_Older sister_," he asked incredulously. "What I feel for you is way more than I feel for any of my sisters. And _come on! That would totally be sooo wrong! I'd say criminal even! Just totally gross,_" he exclaimed. "Who cares about the age difference? And just so you know, you look really hot and sexy as the older woman," he said with a wink. The snark was back with a vengeance.

"Oh just shut up and kiss me already," she said playfully.

Flack couldn't resist, "Okay…Kiss me, I'm Irish," he said with a grin, bringing his hands behind her head, peeling the ponytail off, and running his fingers through her silky curls before pulling her closer to him, sharing a hot, sizzling kiss. After what seemed like a lifetime, they finally drew apart, catching their breaths.

"Wow! Stella that was amazing. Now I know what I've been missing all these years," Flack exclaimed. "You know I love you, right" he asked, trying to reassure her and himself at the same time.

"Yes, Donnie…I love you," she assured him with a smile.

"I think my hangover's gone now," he continued cheekily. "Who would have thought you were all I needed to make things better. Not just about the hangover, mind you. My bump is still quite painful," he said with a grin.

"Want me to make it all better," she answered him saucily, a wicked grin on her face.

"Oh most definitely," he replied naughtily, pulling her up and leading her into the bedroom, the breakfast all but forgotten.

**To Be Continued…**

**A/N 2: Thanks for reading! Again, please don't kill me or you'll never get to read the Epilogue. LOL! Anyway, was it too sappy for your liking? Or was the angst just enough to balance it out? Were Flack and Stella out of character? Please tell me, I want to know. On another note, Flack may have recovered from his hangover real quick but that's not the case in real life. I had to write it so for the sake of the plot. Suspend disbelief I say. LOL! Please let me know what you think of this by leaving me a review. So please push that review button and make my day brighter. **


	5. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: For the nth time, I don't own the characters. I'm just taking them out for a ride. **

**Author's Note: First off, a happy Easter to everyone! Secondly, thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I really appreciate them. I would like to apologize in advance to those who were expecting a bedroom scene for this last chapter. I'm so sorry to disappoint you. I had the whole chapter all planned out and it doesn't include a bedroom scene. You may think I was such a tease as to how the last chapter ended. Again, sorry, **_**really, really**_** sorry. Finally, here's the Epilogue you all were waiting for. So go, read…**

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******Chapter Five - Epilogue**

******Roughly Six Months Later**

The late afternoon sun was shining brightly on a cool day in early fall. New York City was experiencing some fine weather, perfect weather actually, neither too hot nor too cold…Perfect and ideal in fact for a garden wedding reception.

Don Flack couldn't believe that he had finally arrived at this important milestone in his life. Here he was at his own wedding reception in the middle of Bryant Park. Sitting at the head table with a view of everything that was going on, he took in the beautiful sights before him. The Great Lawn now resembled a lovely paradise in the middle of the urban jungle that was Manhattan. The large white tent was tastefully decorated in elegant fall colors. The beautiful floral arrangements and numerous candles added to the romantic feel of the occasion. However, if it wasn't for the imposing façade of the New York Public Library looking down upon them, he would have thought they were somewhere outside the four corners of Manhattan.

He could see their friends and family having a wonderful time, laughing, eating, and drinking. Some were even on the dance floor dancing to the music the band was playing. But the most beautiful sight of all was beside him. He turned his gaze to Stella sitting beside him. She was looking so radiant and content.

His thoughts strayed to what happened earlier in the day, to that particular moment in church when Stella walked down the aisle alone. She had decided to march down the aisle alone since according to her, _'it'll be the last time I'll ever be on my own.'_ The vision that met him when he looked up to see his bride was stunning. She looked so beautifully amazing in her wedding finery. She looked every inch the Greek goddess in her ivory-colored, Empire-cut, halter top, flowing Grecian-style gown…And her curls…so sexy in an elegant up 'do. He was indeed lucky.

People had told him before the wedding that waiting for his bride to make her grand entrance at the church and then embarking on that journey to his side was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences he'll ever have to go through in a lifetime. He took their advice with a grain of salt. He thought he'd be nervous as hell waiting for Stella, he actually was but when she finally arrived and her eyes met his, a sudden calm descended upon him, like everything was going to be all right, that everything had finally fallen into their rightful place.

Not even three months into the relationship, he had proposed to Stella. He knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She had answered him with a confident _'yes'_ but she still asked him why now, why so soon. He could still vividly recall his reply. _"Well, life's too short. I've been waiting for you for a really long time and I'm done waiting. I want to wake up every morning to your beautiful face greeting me. So…Carpe diem_," he had exclaimed with feeling and with that he had slipped the diamond engagement ring onto her finger.

Some must have thought their romance was a bit whirlwind. But when they finally saw them together, they knew that they were just meant to be. He'd like to think so too. To him, it wasn't whirlwind at all. He and Stella had known each other for years now. Both knew what made the other tick. His parents were supportive of his decision. They had welcomed Stella wholeheartedly into the Flack family fold and were dropping not-so-subtle hints of expecting grandchildren from them very soon. His sisters loved Stella as well, saying that finally he had brought home someone not just beautiful but intelligent as well.

"Hey handsome," Stella said, startling him out of his deepest thoughts.

"Yes, Mrs. Flack," he asked with relish, raising an eyebrow seductively.

"You looked so lost there for a moment," she teased.

"Yeah…Well, I was just thinking," he replied.

"Oh really…What about," she asked with a smile on her face.

"Just how lucky I am that you are finally _my wife_ and I'm _your_ _husband_," he said with a broad grin on his face.

"Awww…Aren't you just the sweetest," Stella answered in a playful voice, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Suddenly, Flack heard the opening strains of a very familiar song.

"_Why is that sad look in your eyes? Why are you crying? Tell me now, tell me now. Tell me, why you're feelin' this way. I hate to see you so down, oh baby! Is it your heart? Oh, breakin' all in pieces. Makin' you cry. Makin' you feel blue. Is there anything that I can do?"_

"Stel, why are they playing _that_ song," he said to her, trying so hard not to whine.

"_Why don't you tell me where it hurts now, baby?__ And I'll do my best to make it better...__Yes, I'll do my best to make the tears all go away. Just tell me where it hurts...__Now, tell me.__And I'll love you with a love so tender. __And if you let me stay__...I'll take all of the hurt away"_

"Awww…poor baby! Was it really _that_ traumatic for you," she asked playfully.

_"Where are all those tears coming from? Why are they falling? Did somebody, somebody, somebody leave your heart in the cold? You just need somebody to hold so, baby. (Give me a chance)…To put back all the pieces…Take hold of your heart…Make it just like new…There's so many things that I can do."_

"Pretty much," he said, laughing now.

"Remember, if it wasn't for _that song_ we wouldn't be here today," she replied happily as the song finally ended.

"_I know, Stel! I know!_ If it wasn't for Danny and his cheesy love song…Speak of the devil. _I knew _he had something to do with this," he stopped when he saw Danny approaching the microphone where the band was set up.

"I think it's time for the Best Man's speech," Stella said as she patted Don's hand reassuringly.

"Uhhh-hmmm," Danny said into the microphone, clearing his throat to get the guests' attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. Please take your seats and get comfortable," he said in a crisp voice, silencing everyone in the tent.

"Okay…here we go," Flack muttered under his breath.

"Sweetie, be nice," Stella said to him.

"For those people here who don't know Don and Stella's love story, listen up! This is really funny, I guarantee ya," Danny said with a chuckle. "For those of you who already know this…just listen, ya know that it's really quite the anecdote," he continued as the guests laughed along. "Anyway…you all know how Flack and Stella here have been co-workers for a long time now and how that relationship has turned into a really great friendship. That friendship finally blossomed into love last St. Patrick's Day," he paused, dramatically.

"Stella had invited everyone out for drinks and karaoke for St. Paddy's. We all learned that day that Don here had an amazing singing voice. He was such a hit with the ladies. Who knew he had such talent? Anyway, I had noticed that night that Flack had too much to drink…And as his best friend, I didn't want to leave him like that. He got so comfortable with the microphone that he was soon hogging it. When all that remained at the VIP room that Stella had reserved for us was just me, Don and Stella, Flack was still going at it," he paused, taking a sip from the wine goblet he was holding.

"Who would have thought that I, Daniel Messer, would play _Yente_ to our two lovebirds here," he said, making Flack, Stella and the rest of the guests laugh. "Remember that last song that the band played…That depressing song? That cheesy song? It's called _Tell Me Where It Hurts_, if ya really want to know. Well, I had picked that out for Flack to sing, just for fun. Seeing how cheesy it was," he continued. "I don't really know what happened but somehow the song resonated in Flack. He identified with the lyrics and suddenly he was looking at Stella rather intently and Stella here was gazing at him just as intently," Danny went on, scrunching his face.

"I mean…they were so absorbed with each other, I could have been on the moon for crying out loud. It was as if I wasn't in the room at all…At that particular moment they were in their own little bubble," Danny said passionately, again making everyone chuckle. "When the song finally ended, Don here, bolstered by Dutch courage, finally screamed at the top of his lungs, _"I love you, Stella Bonasera! Kiss me, I'm Irish!" _And then he promptly fainted, falling to the floor in a heap! Det. Donald Alexander Flack, Jr. fell hard for Stella Katherine Bonasera, _literally and figuratively_," Danny exclaimed, eliciting deafening mirth and laughter from the wedding guests.

Flack was turning a bit red by now but was laughing along good-naturedly. Stella was looking at him with a glint of laughter in her eyes as well.

"For one moment, I thought I was in a forest. All that was needed was for some lumberjack to scream at me, _'Timberrr,' _Danny continued energetically. "I mean the sound that Flack made as he fell to the floor was so loud, maybe as loud as a giant redwood falling down on the forest floor. It was _that _loud! I mean, Flack _is such a pretty boy_ but seeing him lying on the floor drunk and unconscious _wasn't a pretty sight!_ Right Stel," he said, amusement tingeing his speech, drawing even louder cheers and hoots, the sound of laughter all around the tent.

"Hey Flack, don't beat me up to a pulp, okay," Danny said, ribbing Flack. "Anyway, to my best friend Don and my good friend Stella, may you guys have a great ride in the adventure called marriage…And may you both be blessed with lots of little Flack spawn," he went on, eliciting chuckles from the crowd. "To Don and Stella," Danny said, raising his goblet in a toast.

"To Don and Stella," everyone echoed, sipping from their glasses, looking to the couple at the center of the head table.

"See handsome? It wasn't so bad," Stella said, turning to Flack.

"Yeah…_Yente_ there really had a ton of fun telling our love story," Don replied with a smile and just a hint of snark to his voice.

They were interrupted by a high-pitched clanging sound of a spoon hitting a wine glass repeatedly. Soon all the guests were doing the same thing, expecting the newlyweds to kiss.

"What do you say Stel? Let's give them quite the show," Flack said cheekily.

"You're on, handsome," she replied with a wide smile. And with that, Flack leaned into her, putting his hands behind her head and drawing her lips into his for a passionate, torrid kiss.

**Fin.**

**A/N 2: Thank you for getting this far! I love how y'all have embraced my little fic. Anyway, thank you for your patience. **


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